


Dress Up

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Castiel thinks of as ‘fancy dress’ is very different than what he sees when he visits Meg one night</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightsaroundyourvanity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsaroundyourvanity/gifts).



Castiel doesn’t really get the ‘fancy dress’ kink Dean keeps referring to. He supposes it may have to do with that odd way Dean struts around when he and Sam dress up in suits for interrogation. Or the way he uses his more business-like attire to get the number of some fawning young woman.

 _"Women love a man in a suit, Cas,"_ Sam explains but that makes less sense really. Used to his own suit, to the way the other angels dress, it really doesn’t seem sensible to Castiel. A suit is a suit is his rationale. It was a simple covering because of human convention and modesty. Dean keeps teasing but Castiel isn’t certain what he means when the two men also talk about how a woman they see in evening wear is ‘hot’.  

Even Meg isn’t that ‘into’ fancy dress when he asks her about it though he forgets how it came up in the first place. The demon is fond of explaining her interpretations of the Winchesters, though it isn’t always flattering. 

_"Can you imagine me dressed up like some human girl on her prom date, Clarence? That’s so stupid."_

Still, she laughs about it, says she looks good in what she likes, and, really, who is he to argue? He’s only ever seen her in her usual leather jacket and jeans or naked. The first time he saw her naked he knew he had stared stupidly. Even though he could see the demon underneath, there was something to be said when faced with slim legs, breasts and that dark hair caressing her nipples whenever she bent down towards him. Meg had taken it as flattery; even gone easy on him that first time until he learned the mechanics of sex. Then it had become fun to see her naked more often.

If he had to make his choice, he knows what he prefers on her body. It would take an incredible of amount of torture to get him to admit that to anyone but her.

Or at least… he thinks he knows what he prefers.

Until the night he’s a bit sore from a fight with Crowley’s demons, and more than a little furious that he’d been caught up like that. Even Dean and Sam look more condescending than normal with him over it. He’s ready to destroy an entire forest just to let out some steam with how uncontrolled he feels.

There’s a bleep on his phone signalling a text — _stupid thing that he’s barely figured out even after years of use_ — that tells him that Meg is in room 66 in a hotel off the highway. Far away from the Winchesters, just as they usually agreed on. He suspected she chose that room for numeric comedy and reminds himself to discipline her for her attempt at demonic humour. The thought of her pale skin under his hands and her mouth on his, maybe has him leaving the Winchesters a bit too quickly.  It may even be because, of all the ‘people’ he knows, Meg can take his anger and dish it back just as sweetly.

It is when he walks through the door after forcing it open with his shoulder that he knows he isn’t as prepared for her tonight. There’s a puddle of silk in the middle of the floor, a soft blue shawl that is just a wisp of fabric. Castiel stares at it, knowing it’s out of place.

"I couldn’t wait and had to ditch that part of my get-up. But you said something about ‘fancy dress’, right?" Meg’s voice is a slow, hot drawl. The kind of tone that sends heat crawling up the back of his legs and his spine, settling at the base of his throat so he can barely speak. He knows that edge in her voice. Meg is in a mood. 

Castiel just is not sure if what she thinks as fancy dress is actually fancy dress. 

He barely even remembers to close and lock the door when she swivels around in the desk chair. She’s wearing a silky blue dress, undone down the front and sliding all around her body. Her legs cross slowly, inviting his eyes to start at her toes and travel up. The high stilettos, strapped up to her ankle, are nothing like her normal boots. It makes her legs look slim and he sees a shimmer on her skin. It takes him a moment to focus, to realize she is wearing black stockings, as he follows the slope of her calves and thighs. Castiel’s not sure what to do when his eyes fix on the top of her thighs, close to the v between her legs. Lace garters are anchoring the material, digging into the flesh of her thigh, and he feels the urge to tear them off.

He can’t even feel his tongue anymore.

"That’s…that’s not exactly what I think Dean meant earlier." He forces himself to lift his eyes off the black stockings and garter belt, up the lace corset that encases her slim waist. It pushes her breasts invitingly upwards and he has to pull his coat over his groin to hide the effect her silk encased body has on him. It’s a sight he suddenly wants… needs… to see more of, and not for the first time he’s hit with the realization that no one has been able to make him feel more like sinning than this small demon.

"No?" Meg’s lip falls down in a trembling pout. "I thought you’d like it. It’s all black and so tight, Cas. Like someone is touching me all over."

Her fingers drop down her thighs to scratch up the stockings and he can’t stop himself letting out a longing sigh. When she snaps the elastic bands at the top of her thighs, the sound makes him jump and realize she’s dangerously close to getting complete control of him again. She’s not even moved towards him and what he’s willing to do to see more is humiliating.

 _You’re an angel,_ he reminds himself. _You’re stronger than her. Older than her. You should be in control._

Renewed by that affirmation, he pushes off from the door and strides towards her with all the purpose he usually uses when facing demons or monsters. He’s close to her when her head leans back, dark curls falling over her breasts the way he likes, and she gives him that sly grin that knows exactly how uncomfortable she’s made him. Castiel’s hands tighten into fists, drop to his sides and he’s about to make a grab for her when her leg lifts, her stiletto planting itself square in the middle of his chest. The stretch makes her leg taut and he has to stop or risk getting impaled on the wicked edge of her heel.

"Take it off," Meg orders, gesturing at his coat. "The coat and the jacket. Leave the tie and the shirt."

With her heel still pressing into his chest, Castiel does as she asked and the way he whips the clothes angrily to the floor makes her chuckle. “I’m going to have to teach you to go slow, angel.”

"I thought the purpose of this was to go as fast as possible. To get what we both want." He grabs her by the ankle, ready to shove her foot away but there’s a glint in her eye that warns him that that is the wrong move. 

"Admitting you want me finally? Or are you still sticking with that denial ‘demon keeps seducing me’ crap?" Her eyes drag down to his pants and she licks her lower lip. An erection he has barely been able to hide gets harder and tighter, rubbing against the front of his boxers, and when she lifts her other foot to rub the tip of her heel over his cock he has to bite his tongue to hide the moan. "Your crush on me, Clarence, is awfully… large."

Castiel’s eyes open again and he glares. “You’re doing this deliberately.”

"Of course I am. I got all pretty for you. The least you can do is roll up your sleeves-" She pauses for effect and, taking the hint, he unbuttons his sleeves and rolls them up to his elbow, "-and do something to show me you appreciate a demon trying to make an angel happy."

There’s something blasphemous about the honeyed way she slides her tongue over the words and he only stands there as she slides her foot up his chest, heel digging in just enough to cause him a bit of pain before he catches it in his hand. There’s a hesitation, as if she’s ready to pull back, but Castiel hasn’t spent all this time in her bed without learning her games. He slides his hand up her calf, turning his head so he can ghost his lips over her ankle. There’s a hitch to her breathing when he licks at the straps holding her stiletto on, tasting vinyl and perfume. 

His palm can almost go all the way around her calf muscles and he strokes it up towards her thigh, fingers pressing into the back of her knee. Meg’s not moving an inch now, pressed into the back of the chair as her nails dig into the arms, so when he looks up at her he can see her dark eyes watching him intently. Expecting him to stop.

It makes the way she moans as he drops to his knees between her legs, somehow more satisfying than it should be. Nuzzling against the softness of her upper thigh, he bites at the lace of her holdups and hears her murmuring encouragement. Her one hand goes right into his hair, just scratching the way he likes and causing his body to ache, and the other slides down to hold onto his tie, leading him where she wants his mouth. Pulling back, Castiel bites at the lace again and then nips at the elastic straps of her garter, pulling it taut. 

Meg knows she should say something about him looking like an overeager puppy with how he holds the bit of material in his teeth, but then he lets it go so it snaps hard on her skin. The ricochet of it goes straight to her clit and the heat that had been pooling between her thighs suddenly feels slicker. The startled groan she lets escape makes him grin, that sort of fierce one that makes her stomach flip, and then his tongue is sliding over the red mark he caused. 

"So you didn’t say if you… liked… this…. get up…" It’s so hard to focus when his tongue keeps tripping up and down her thigh like that, never getting where she wants it. Castiel hums, bites at the flesh of her thigh gently before he sucks hard enough that her hips jerk up. 

"It suits you." He kneels back, ignoring the pull on his tie. His two hands slide up her legs, feeling the satin of her stockings, the lace of the hold ups, and the peek of skin just under the corset’s hem. The fact that she’s not wearing underwear is something he likes as his hands leave the smoothness of her skin for the silk of the corset and the ribbing in the front that feels rigid. Fiddling with the edges, Castiel’s eyes leave the elegant patterns for her face. "May I ask how you were able to get into this all by yourself?"

There’s a deceptively hard edge in his voice, making her close her eyes and smirk. “Mm, well. Maybe I had some help. The right hunter could get me into this so… so easy.”

Meg’s always liked to play with fire and using Castiel’s feelings of jealousy towards the more experienced Dean or Sam makes this easy. She barely hears the faint sound of a growl before he yanks her forward so her ass hangs over the edge of the chair and the parted skirts are ripped off completely. “Hey, I stole those from a…”

Muttering about thieving demons, Castiel causes that snarling threat to die in her throat when he  hooks her legs over his shoulders and lifts her up to his mouth. The wet slide of his tongue, the sound of it flicking at her clit and wet folds, - _fuck, he is good at this, Meg thinks—_ all of it speaks of what he thinks about her getting fancied up like this and it feels so good she stops struggling to get free. He licks and sucks until she is sloppy wet and bucking her hips up at his mouth for more, his muffled and hungry moans causing vibrations that give that pleasure more of an edge. His hands keep squeezing up and down her legs and stockings she hated suddenly feel incredible at the stroking. Shutting her eyes and arching her back, she latches her thighs around the back of his neck, digs her heels into his back, and holds on to his tie to keep his mouth where she wants it. 

Fuck, she’s addicted to an angel with a photographic memory because he never forgets the exact spots that made her twitch. She feels his teeth grate on the edge of her labia, nipping and then moving to leave more biting kisses but then he stops and pulls back. The chair is digging into the small of her back, the nylon is causing a burn on her skin, and she can’t stop herself from trying to pull him back for more.

When he doesn’t move, she opens her eyes and sees him hovering over her, his breath just panting against her stomach and causing the silk of the corset to dampen. There’s something good about seeing him like this, all ruffled, shirt creased and tie nearly choking him with the way she holds it so tight. He always looks good on his knees.

"Should have known me getting all fancy for you would get so happy to forget you’re an angel," Meg says aloud, just to watch his eyes flatten and that dangerous light come back. She half-expects him to go back to work - _so easy to trick him into thinking an orgasm is punishment_ \- but then his hands are on the silk covering her hips and flipping her over. The chair goes flying out of the way and Meg can only see the hardwood floor under her as he holds her hips up.

When she hears his belt opening and his zipper being undone, she laughs. “You do have it bad for seeing me dressed up for you, huh?”

His hand anchors in her hair as he gets on his knees behind her. The hand at the base of her corset yanks her back and she gasps when he thrusts inside of her, letting her rest on his thighs. Dripping wet, she takes him in so easy that he moans against the ridge of her neck and bites to keep that moan down. He likes to talk during sex, which was what made this mute, desperate angel suddenly so hot and she can’t help but wriggle. Every muscle is clenching down, ready to come, and he holds her still on his cock. A hand strokes up and down the stockings, touching her just enough that she starts groaning, arching her back and leaning into him with. 

"You like… seeing me like this," Castiel mutters, aware of how desperately she wants to move on him. Her hips lift and fall, sawing him in and out of her and the hand stroking her thighs goes between her legs. Meg can barely focus on his voice, blood pounding through her body and causing her cunt to ache as she tries hard not to come before him. Before he can do what she figures he does best.

Before he can make her scream.

"I love seeing an angel out of control. All it took was some lace too," she breathes back, rolling her hips back and forth. "You’re so easy, Castiel. What would your daddy say?"

The gentleness he was holding her with leaves just as she ends that sentence, and she ends up face down to the floor as he wraps an arm around her waist and starts to thrust in long, deep strokes. It’s enough to make her breath come out in throaty gasps, her nails scratching against the floor. The stockings are ripping under the force of his thrusts, the corset is unravelling as he uses it to pull her back and forth, and it’s all so fucking good that she doesn’t mind that he’s ruining the only pretty set of lingerie she’s ever stolen.

Getting onto her knees and elbows, she throws her head back and feels him rest on her back, his hips pumping against her ass and his hand lifting to tear the top of the corset down so he can cup and squeeze a breast. “So bad, Clarence,” Meg hisses when she catches sight of him out of the corner of her eye. The rest of the dress is shredded at her back, hanging in blue folds around her, and she can feel each push into her body. It’s bone jarring and it feels like he’s about to fuck her apart.

The kiss he manages to give her while leaning over her shoulder is what makes her come. Not the cock sliding into her, not the way the hand that gropes her breast squeezes her nipple hard enough to hurt, or even the soft moans he’s making about how good she feels inside. It’s that kiss, all bruising lips, teeth that nip at her mouth and tongue, -  _she knows how she affected him_ -, but the way his kiss sets every aching muscle and nerve on fire is what makes her come.

The loss of control makes her rip her head away, needing air, and when she cries out his name, screams it, — _fuck, fuck, Cas, don’t stop_ — she starts shaking. The relentless drive of him sends them flat onto the floor, his body on hers and pushing her into the hardwood. Wet slick from her slides down the stockings, ruins them even more. She sees his hands brace over her head, grasping her wrists over her head, and she feels the metal rasp of his zipper digging into her thighs when he uses the friction to grind against her ass and it sends a chain reaction goes through her. Angelic strength bruises against her demon self and she’s coming and can’t stop the low whimpers as she buries her head in the silk of the ruined dress and feels each rippling contraction go through her cunt until she’s exhausted.

Castiel comes quieter than usual, as if he can’t find the voice for it, and she feels the slow twist of his hips as he drives hard once, twice. He’s coming inside of her, grinding into her as he mutters aloud finally, — _so… beautiful. Meg. Meg_ —so that she can only laugh and try hard not to give away how good it feels to feel him losing control inside of her again. Even the collapse of him, sprawled over her back with his head buried in the back of her neck, isn’t so bad since he keeps thrusting inside of her with little hip jerks that carry her aftershocks.

His breath is puffing against the back of her neck, each hot drift making her skin prickle, when Meg manages to move a little underneath him. Between her thighs is sticky and wet, her stockings are in tatters, the garter belt is half-undone, and the corset has been swivelled around completely.

Still, best plan ever.

"Never answered my question," she gasps out. Castiel murmurs against the back of her neck as her cunt spasms again when she accidentally squirms and presses herself back against him, takes him in even deeper so she moans. It is just enough of a tight squeeze just to give him more sensation and make him groan, his hands squeezing hers to keep her still. "You like me looking fancy, don’t you?"

His head lifts and she can actually feel his eyes on the back of her head. “I do.” He moves up onto his hands and knees, letting her turn over, and Meg likes what she sees. His shirt is soaked with sweat, his open pants and boxers down around his ankles, and what she can see underneath the surface of his skin reads of a satisfied angel. The angel wears lust like she wears her corset; so good and so dark. Castiel rests his hips against hers, while his hand grabs the top of the corset. There’s a loud _rip_ as he tears it like tissue paper from her body. 

"But I like you without it as well."

Her laughter gets smothered when he finally kisses her mouth and finishes tearing the rest of the clothes off her body as if she is a gift made just for him. Made just for him to unwrap and wreck so completely.


End file.
